Denied Prophet : Rewrite the Stars
by snarksadoodle
Summary: Surprised, he makes another little choked up crying sound, eyes clenching shut and closed for the last time. The cries wrack his body with multiple shudders. The blood of his wounds continue staining his fur and dripping down underneath him in a small puddle. "Thank you..." EDIT: Nope nope nope. Record scratch this. I call do-over. [ DP Alternate Ending ]
1. Revision

"Revision"

* * *

"Aww, look at the little fishies who think it's safe to nap on _our_ rocks."

The sultry croon in close proximity encourages Nutfur's hypersensitive senses to flare up and open his eyelids within a half-second. The other half is enough to get him on his paws, blurrily blinking away the cloudy shapes until his sights focus. Beside him, Featherpaw is upright and alert, having been shaken awake by the voice or the noisy shift of Nutfur scrambling to his feet.

Regardless, both are awake, suddenly very aware of five cats sitting in a circle formation with smug smiles to represent the idea of a hungry pack of foxes that have their prey cornered.

A quick once around and Nutfur recognizes Bramblenose, Sunstrike, Stingheart, Amberpaw, and Pineberry.

"Oops, I guess I spoke too loud," giggles Pineberry, the night black female sitting on the highest rock platform, overlooking the two toms with a sneer and a flash of pearly whites.

"Enjoy your nap, boys?" purrs Sunstrike, swishing his tail, blocking the most immediate way off the clump of boulders.

"What are you doing here?" Nutfur challenges, refusing to be intimidated by their ThunderClan tactics.

"Taking back what's rightfully ours!" Amberpaw meows sharply, her dark eyes flashing with hostility as her already fluffy pelt fluffs up.

"Shallowstar is foolish," Stingheart adds with a snort. "First she breaks our agreement and takes the river for not only leaf-bare, but for every other time! Green-leaf, new-leaf, and leaf-fall. The river is now RiverClan's. Foolish! Secondly, she thinks she can pull rank and lay claim to the river _and_ Sunningrocks. Mouse-brain! That's what she is. Thirdly, if she really thinks that ThunderClan will just accept her new laws, then she's a bigger idiot than we pegged her for."

"We were really here only to remark the borders properly," Bramblenose explains, looking less malicious than the rest of his patrol, but still intimidating by his heft. "You two just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"What was it that your bumbling leader said at the gathering?" Stingheart feigns a thoughtful look, stealing a glance upward at the cloudy sky. "Oh yeah, that for any cat that crosses the border, we are permitted to shred them."

"Then we'll just leave," Featherpaw voices, rooting for the easy way out in hopes that neither of them will bear scars going back to camp. Somehow, he doubts that they'll actually go for it, but it's at least worth a try.

"Not going to happen," Sunstrike growls.

"Didn't think so," the apprentice mutters under his breath, claws unsheathing.

Beside him, Nutfur gets the hint that the only way they're leaving, is through means of bloodshed. As such, his own claws slide out in preparation, releasing a throaty growl, waiting for one of the ThunderClan cats to make the move.

Pineberry returns the growl, joined in with Sunstrike and Stingheart before the entire section of rocks are just bathed in the sounds of restless hissing and growling.

From behind, Amberpaw makes the first bold move and rams straight into Featherpaw.

The attacked apprentice yelps at the contact. Nutfur whirls around, the black tom's name on his breath before it's taken away when Sunstrike and Stingheart gang up on either side, wrestling the hissing pale cat to the ground with a fair bit of trouble considering Nutfur's violent tendencies. The RiverClan warrior bites and snarls, lashing out with what appendages are not currently being restrained and forces the assault off the stones and onto the softer terrain. He feels claws rake at his side, forcing him to roll where he gets pinned to his back, giving a bloodthirsty Stingheart a chance to dig his claws into Nutfur's exposed belly.

A strangled cry and brute force drives Stingheart away as the collided mass of Featherpaw and Amberpaw barrel in.

Pineberry jumps in to help Sunstrike and Stingheart with wrestling Nutfur back down while Bramblenose bounds off the rock and aids Amberpaw in a chase to contain the oddly agile Featherpaw.

Nutfur bellows out a savage snarl, yanking one of his forearms away from Sunstrike's grip and promptly thwacking the ginger and black tom right in the face, dragging his claws the whole way. To his triumph, the ThunderClan warrior shrieks and pulls back to nurse his injured face, letting a nimble Pineberry bite and tug at the flailing leg. Nutfur fends off Stingheart from attacking his own face, having already been bitten on the ear and at the cheek fluff. With a heavy amount of thrashing around like a caged creature, Nutfur manages to get off his back where he can protect his belly better and starts lashing out with all four limbs and an impressive snap of his jaws wherever he could reach.

Stingheart falls back a few steps, high strung from when those flashing teeth connected with his twig of a tail.

"Featherpaw!" Nutfur yowls, hoping the apprentice is close enough to hear his voice over the scuffle of battle. "Run back to camp! Get help!" He throws his head around, relieved marginally when he spots the streak of black rocket for the stepping stones. His relief jolts to anxiety when Amberpaw tackles him from the side, shoving him into the earth with furious screeching. Even worse, Amberpaw pins him long enough for Bramblenose to lumber over and pouce, forcing the injured apprentice to scramble away from his destination, detouring further down the shoreline with a fast moving Amberpaw keeping him away from simply jumping in the river to swim away.

Nutfur is about to call again, willing his apprentice to remember his training and spring faster but that dies on his tongue as soon as a set of teeth snap near his throat. He jerks back, a rush of fear rippling through his veins as he sets his sights on the closed jaw of Sunstrike right in front of him. Nutfur has a moment to gloat, preening at his own skills when he catches a glimpse of where he struck the ThunderClan warrior's face - a matting of red on his fur by his eye and cheek.

Pain inflames the right of his head, right at the ear juncture. His jaws part to exclaim in a fierce howl of pain as there's a savage rip and hot white pain throbbing just off to the side of his head. He doesn't know how long he's screaming before he's calm enough to tolerate the inflammation and whip his head around to see a disheveled Pineberry spitting out what looks like a clump of pale skin and fur. An ear?

Without a second thought, Nutfur throws himself at the she-cat, his rage overpowering the burning of his wounds. He escapes the bonds of a hissing Sunstrike and barrels into a fatigued black feline.

While Nutfur wrestles with Pineberry, Sunstrike bounds up, crashing his shoulder into the pale warrior's side.

Nutfur yelps, thrown further down the length of the dirt.

He regains his footing.

Stingheart, brazen and boiling, appears in front of the RiverClan warrior with barely a tail length between them. He opens his jaws, baring saliva ridden rows of deadly fangs.

Time slows.

Sunstrike cheers.

Stingheart lurches.

Nutfur recoils.

Featherpaw jumps.

Pineberry gapes.

Amberpaw blinks.

Bramblenose gasps.

Having realized his deathly mistake, Stingheart spits out the mass of fur and skin he had his teeth digging into. As a result, a limp, bloody, black shape fumbles to the ground, scarcely making a noise other than a brief whine.

Hurriedly, the ThunderClan cats back up, mortified that they had let things get too far out of paw. Obviously they had only meant to slice and tear - death was not tolerated in the code without good reason.

"He - he - he jumped in front of me!" Stingheart protests quickly, voice high and panicky as the pale cat shoves his way toward the fallen.

But Nutfur blocks their voices - he's only listening for one.

"N-nutfur?" rasps a gravelly voice and Nutfur perks up in relief.

"Oh, thank StarClan, Featherpaw, you're still here!" the warrior doesn't notice his own voice shudder. He quickly looks over the mass of rumpled fur. Amberpaw and Bramblenose had certainly done a number on him; fur clumped with the dirt, thoroughly ruffled from constant attacking, no doubt many lacerations under that dark pelt and of course the very recent gash on his throat where Stingheart himself sunk his fangs in. His white spot on his chest is no longer visible thanks to the flow of crimson leaking from the tomcat's throat area. He's an ugly mass of blood, dirt and fur, but at the very least, he's still breathing.

"Nutfur?" Featherpaw moans again, flanks moving far too quickly and his breathing far too shallow.

"It's ok, bud, I'm right here. I'm right here," Nutfur quickly reassures him, hovering next to the apprentice's face so he can be easily seen. "Don't try to speak."

So Featherpaw doesn't speak.

But he does something that shocks Nutfur to the core.

Featherpaw laughs.

It starts out as a small snicker, slightly wheezy thanks to this throat wound and constant blood flow. It suddenly escalates to a full blown belly laugh - loud and obnoxious in a way but Nutfur's convinced that it's the most beautiful, yet heartbreaking sound ever.

"F-featherpaw?" the warrior murmurs, fear written all over his face.

"My entire life, I've not laughed once," the 'paw chokes out another raspy chuckle, flanks shuddering with the motion, lips curled up in a deep rooted smile, teeth and all. "I only just started smiling. . . I wanted to see what laughing felt like."

Featherpaw's outburst suddenly falls flat and he now bears an expression that almost looks like he's been struck by some depressing thought. Which, unfortunately, he probably has. The laughter dies and he glances up at Nutfur with watery blue blue eyes. "Nutfur?" his voice cracks painfully. "I think I'm dying. . ."

Nutfur bites his tongue, bowing his head. When he lifts it once again, his own fear is mirrored onto Featherpaw with that hopeless expression and wide, tearful eyes. The sight alone makes Nutfur's heart clench with pain.

"Hey, hey," he meows instead, trying to brighten up the mood with a few quick words. "No more tears, no more tears. Eyes on me, listen to my voice."

"I'm a failure," whines Featherpaw, croaky. "I let down my family. . . I let down StarClan. . . I let down _you._ . ."

"Listen!" Nutfur barks fiercely, biting back his own waterworks. "Featherpaw, there's something you need to know."

The apprentice tries to lift his head to lock eyes better but with a whine, it falls back down to the ground. "Yeah?" he whimpers.

Nutfur forces himself to smile, ignoring his own break of voice. "Welcome to the family. It's little and broken but still good. Brownpelt and I are honored to call you our brother."

Surprised, Featherpaw makes another little choked up crying sound, eyes clenching shut and closed for the last time. The cries wrack his body with multiple shudders. The blood of his wounds continue staining his fur and dripping down underneath him in a small puddle. "Thank you. . ." is his final murmur, before Nutfur can no longer hear breathing and can no longer see the quick rise and fall of the black tom's blood stained flanks.

Featherpaw is gone.

* * *

 _Gyaah!_

Featherpaw awakes with a cold sweat, screaming and gasping for breath. His eyes are blown wide with panic, his maw agape. His fur is set aflame with bristled nerves of pure fear.

He doesn't know where he is.

"Featherpaw? Featherpaw!"

The voice cracks at his shell of despair. The rough, overly concerned timbre attempts to offer safety, blurring the line between realities.

"Featherpaw, you gotta calm down! Your breathing's all over the place!"

He can't stop. The breath can't warm his lungs fast enough. He's mildly aware of his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace but he can't get his motions to slow. He can't stop.

Numbness burns his throat. It's slit - it has to be slit. What else could this pain be?

 _"Feathers!"_

The apprentice is consumed by warmth in the form of pale brown fur. Soft, yet unyielding pressure forces him against the dry stone and pins him there despite the struggles. Featherpaw vibrates with raw energy, unfocused. His heart pounds. The blood roars in his ears.

Slowly, velvety murmurs pour into his consciousness. His captor whispers fruitlessly into his ears, words of praise and sweet nothings cast out from his lips.

"That's it, that's it. Slow down your breathing, oh you're doing so good. There, there. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. There you go, perfect. Keep at it."

Alongside the words, Featherpaw finds himself subconsciously obeying, a warm flutter settling in his chest as the panic subsides. Color returns to his vision and everything shifts back into focus. The pressure of the other body pulls away gently, revealing Nutfur's pleased smile.

"Hey, welcome back," he meows quietly with a hopeful upturn of his muzzle. "You drifted off hard, didn't you?"

"Nutfur?" Featherpaw rasps, surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice.

"It's me, kiddo," the warrior grins a bit bigger, touching his nose to the apprentice's forehead in a show of subtle affection. "You're safe."

"Nutfur," Featherpaw repeats, his voice quivering as his own thoughts come flooding back. "You were - you-you- you were hurt... you were fighting... I jumped to sa-save you. Nutfur, I-I... Nutfur, I _died._.. " Tears bubble in his eyes, pooling in the corners before they're blinked and forced to stream down his cheek fur.

Nutfur closes the distance again with his body. "Shh," he hums. "I'm fine. You're fine. I'm breathing. You're breathing. We're both alive. We're both safe. Shhh."

Featherpaw just shudders in Nutfur's embrace, words of protest dying on his tongue. He falls slack, relaxed as best he can. He slips into a lapse of calm silence, allowing his heartbeat to stutter a bit from the adrenaline and continue to beat at a slower pace.

He watches hollowly - distantly as the breeze catches the grasses surrounding the sun dried stones. It's warm. It won't be that way for very long. A bird chirps midst the undergrowth far behind them. The river in the opposite direction runs at a steady ripple, beating against the pebbles.

"You knew exactly what to do," Featherpaw announces finally after he's settled. "How?"

Nutfur's ear twitches. "Brownpelt struggled a lot with emotions as an apprentice. He was no stranger to panic attacks. We didn't really have parents to talk to about this, so I kind of stepped up and took on the bigger role. Whenever he was feeling down, or if he had nightmares, I always let him sleep in my nest with me. Always calmed him down eventually. Just figured that I could calm you down in a similar way. Worked, yeah?"

Featherpaw bobs his head and offers a simple, "Yeah."

"Feel like heading back yet?"

"Uh-uh."

"Okay."

* * *

 _A/N: Ok, ok. I've been convinced. DP needed an alternate ending. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm super happy with how the original ended. It's exactly how I planned it to end. The loose moral being, not every story has a happy ending. Even if things were technically wrapped up with a "happy" ending, there's still many other alternate ways this tale could have gone._

 _This is one of them. And I've dubbed it the everyonelives!au._

 _So clearly, we start from the infamous Chapter 26. Whereupon we're struck with the ultimate "what if" of this story. What if ThunderClan never showed up on the rocks to start a scuffle? Therein lies our story._

 _QotC: Here's a fun challenge. In one word, try to define each of our protagonists. If protags aren't your cup of tea, pick any character you so desire in the DP universe. Can you do it?_

 _\- snarky_


	2. Progression

"Progression"

* * *

A chill slithers through the cracks of the reed-lined warrior's den. Dawn peeks in through slits midst the foliage, casting lines of light all across the ground in linear patterns.

In his nest, Brownpelt shivers.

He's cold and alone. The morning frost has yet to creep in past his layer of fur to lift him from slumber, so the young warrior twists in his mossy home to remain in the depths of sleep. A whine escapes his maw. His tail lashes. His ears pin. His muzzle wrinkles.

The warrior whines again - loud enough to break his nightmare-like trance. He jolts his head up, looking around furiously with a bleary dark hazel gaze. Brownpelt's voice cracks, "Nutfur?"

Reeds rustle and in steps another warrior. Surprisingly, it's not Nutfur as Brownpelt called, but instead Tansyspot who scuttles in with a curious face. She cocks her head, eyes creasing to convey confusion and prompts, "Brownpelt? What's wrong?"

Brownpelt shrinks into himself, looking kit-like; he sits small and scared. "I want Nutfur," he mewls. "I want him."

Tansyspot's face morphs to remorseful sympathy. "Sweetie, he went out training hours ago. What's wrong?"

Brownpelt just shakes his head while his breath quickens. "I want Nutfur," he repeats. "I want Nutfur."

Tansyspot tries. "I can help you. Would you give me a chance?"

"Nutfur!"

Despite the warrior's protests, Brownpelt feels the soft and sleek pelt of the calico press against him in his nest. He wriggles in an attempt to dart away but Tansyspot leans on him, gently pinning him to the confines of the moss, calmly purring and shushing.

"It's going to be alright, Brownpelt. Shh," Tansyspot's voice chimes.

He feels her pressure against his body that traps him. He slowly stops resisting and succumbs to her words. His breath drops in speed and noise, now a steady inhale and exhale through his nose. His ear twitches as she speaks again.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

Brownpelt cranes his head, catching sight of her mismatched eyes. He shrugs. "Nightmares."

Tansyspot rubs against his side. It's a comfort tactic. "What were the nightmares about?"

Brownpelt seems adamant on being vague as he offers another shrug. "Some past stuff. Nutfur knows."

The calico at his side frowns. "Well, I don't. Can you tell me?"

"Eh."

Tansyspot opens her maw to retort harshly but there's a sadness marring her mate's face and she thankfully decides to drop the subject. She merely takes the fluff of her cheek fur and brushes it up against his own face. Brownpelt's eyelids close, drowsy, contentedly.

The ruddy chestnut warrior lulls in the silence, in the haze. Tansyspot is with him. His lover is with him. He is safe. He is protected. Fog sifts in the warrior's brain, leaving his thoughts blurred as he tries to focus on them. There's a sunset reflecting off the sea. Waves ripple and shine. Water laps at the shore. Calm sea air floods the senses.

"I want Nutfur," Brownpelt finally meows, soft and wispy to reflect his blissed out sense of self.

Tansyspot huffs. "I told you, Nutfur's out training with that snarky apprentice of his. He'll be back soon."

"Hey Tansyspot," Brownpelt slurs, drunk with his soft pleasure high. Tansyspot has stopped her brushing and Brownpelt picks up where she left off. He rubs against her body, friction sparking between their pelts.

"What?" she lilts, an edge of annoyance in her tone.

"What are your thoughts on having an open relationship?"

Tansyspot freezes, because honestly - what in the name of StarClan. She swallows. "What's your definition of open?" she inquires, her tail stilled and swept up to tuck closer to herself.

"Like," Brownpelt mumbles, his voice still faintly slurred with his hazy feelings. "Open," he proclaims, unhelpfully.

"What kind of open?"

"Open open," Brownpelt smiles, a bright and eager look sifting in his eyes behind the cloudiness as he stares dreamily at the calico. "Like the kind of open that says you can be with anyone. Another partner - more partners! So all the love can be shared around."

As he stares up at Tansyspot like she's the prettiest star in the sky, the calico blinks down at him, maw slack and eyes unimpressed. "Brownpelt," she starts tersely, "I thought I was all you needed. Why do you need the opportunity to have other partners? All you need is me and me alone. You don't need anyone else. I'll protect you, I'll care for you, I'll do anything you need or want or desire. You just need me, you just need me." She quickly delves into a ramble, a slight amount of desperation in her voice.

Brownpelt cocks his head. "Well, I mean, yeah I need you. I really think I love you Tansyspot. But wouldn't it be sweet if we could share the love among others? Like if I really really wanna be with someone but I also really really wanna be with you? We could share and love everyone!"

Tansyspot tenses, a bristle forming the crest of her spine as a response. "No. I don't think it would be sweet," she meows bitterly. "Brownpelt, you're mine. You're my everything. I can't lose you." Her tail lashes. "Besides, who would you even be interested in with anyway if not me?"

There's a quiver to the chestnut tom's body. "I dunno," is his quieter response, almost timid before the hardened visage of the calico. "I just thought it would be a fun concept. I was curious if you shared my sentiments."

"Well I don't!" Tansyspot snaps, teeth clacking. "What's the point of multiple mates when you can raise a family with one? A mother and a father. Brownpelt, don't you want kits?"

"Well sure I do," Brownpelt chimes as he shifts away slightly. He tucks up into himself more to shy away. "But I always thought there would be something more if a larger family raised kits."

"Our Clan is our larger family. I don't need another cat stealing my affection. If I have you, I have you. No one else can." Tansyspot's nose upturns, disdain written all over her face as she speaks. Her fur ruffles, regardless of the breeze filtering through the reed barrier of the den.

"But Tansyspot -"

"End of discussion."

Brownpelt hasn't seen true anger in Tansyspot's mismatched eyes but right now there's a fierce glow that strikes his soul. He doesn't argue further - her words have silenced him. He ducks his head, bowing away from his lover as she shifts to an upright position. Her tail swishes harshly, an edge of irritation in its roots.

"Tansyspot, where are you going?" Brownpelt's meow is meek. His plumed tail tucks around himself, taking the place of where the calico had been before she had moved.

A shrugging motion sweeps across her slim shoulders, her back turned toward the chestnut cat. "I think you need some space to think. I'll leave you to yourself for a while." With that, she pads out of the den, her colorful tail seen last as she leaves.

Brownpelt quickly jumps to his paws with a fearful stutter. "Ah- uh- T-Tansyspot! Wait!" He stumbles and darts for the break in the reed lining. Startled, he pushes through the entryway and stands around in a daze on the other side, frantically searching for Tansyspot. Unfortunately, she's not seen anywhere in the clearing. She's either ducked into another den or slipped out of camp as a whole. Regardless of the options, Tansyspot left and Brownpelt's alone again.

He bites his tongue, holding back the thought of tears. He had her in his grasp and now he's losing her.

"Hey uh, Brownpelt. You doing alright?" calls a voice from nearby. Male, typically light-hearted. Sunpath? Uh, maybe Shybee?

Brownpelt doesn't take the time to look and check. He bows his head, avoiding eye contact as he swiftly dives for a safe space. His paws touch the dirt. The sunlight on his pelt disappears, shielded by the rock face of the medicine cat's den. He lets out a wet pant, otherwise wordlessly expressing his arrival.

"Featherpaw?" he suddenly calls, voice rougher than usual.

A gray-blue head pokes out from the cool den's interior, darker blue eyes shimmering with confusion. "Oh Brownpelt, it's you. Featherpaw's not here." The rest of Clearwater's body emerges into full view. "He shouldn't be anymore at least. I heard he and Nutfur went out for training purposes." She approaches the warrior, appearing wearisome. "What's the matter? Do you need medical attention?"

"No," Brownpelt murmurs but allows himself to move a step closer. "I just -" he pauses, swallowing. "Can I just stay here with you for a little while?"

Clearwater blinks in surprise. She shakes out of her stupor and bobs her head encouragingly. "Of course. Do you want a nest to lay down in?"

Brownpelt makes no verbal confirmation. He simply arches forward, lurching until he nearly trips over his paws and leans into a shocked embrace.

The medicine cat breathes scarcely and slowly allows body movement in order to slip a paw around the young warrior's shoulders, holding him close.

Brownpelt shudders. Safe.

* * *

 _A/N: Kind of short but meant for character development purposes mostly. While this au isn't going to last as long as the 30 chapter canonical DP story, what I have in my notes will carry this considerably far. Unlike a quick one-shot with an alternate ending, this will last a while. This could be loosely considered the ultimate alternate ending. The plot beyond this cannot be solved in one chapter._

 _So strap on in guys, gals, non-binary pals. All aboard the DP AU hype train._

 _QotC: Going back to memory lane here for a moment. Can you recall some of your favorite moments from the original DP? I'm curious to see what exactly stuck out to people and made them enjoy it specifically._

 _\- snarky_


	3. Temptation

"Temptation"

* * *

Darkness steals the sky by the time Nutfur and Featherpaw return.

The harshness of the blazing sun subsides, swallowed up by the crisp coolness of the night.

The pair slips through the reeds, a familiar caress over their pelts as they cross the threshold into the main camp. Splashtail and Cloudyhaze sit a good few paces behind them now, having been rooted to the spot as night guard. The white warrior's lack of hearing makes it hard for her to properly watch over the camp. She doesn't notice abnormalities as easy as the rest of RiverClan. Instead of shamed for her faults, she's merely paired up with another warrior as a team. It's typically Splashtail.

Training was long. Nutfur knows. He's silent as he trudges beside his apprentice, casting a quick glance to the side to admire.

Featherpaw is hunched up at his shoulders, head drooping with an aura of fatigue. A downward crease marks his visage in an emotionless frown. His paws drag the ground which scuffs up the dirt and drifts up into his charcoal pelt.

He hadn't said anything since they had decided to return home.

"You're coming along in your training," Nutfur meows finally, softly, so as not to disturb the silence too brashly.

Featherpaw grunts in acknowledgement.

Nutfur's maw twists in a worried grimace. It's been common knowledge since approximately day one that Featherpaw thrives off of praise. As the days pass, Nutfur tries to throw in compliments here and there, relishing in the spark that lights up in those blue blue eyes as a result.

"You're doing very well," he tries again, with a more impactful impression. "You'll be a warrior in no time."

Featherpaw grunts again.

There's no _thank you, Nutfur_ , no smile, no spark… not even a twitch of his whiskers.

A moment later, the apprentice starts to veer away from his mentor's side and Nutfur panics. Had he said something wrong? The unease fluttering in his chest settles when he realizes that it's only because the apprentice's den is on that side of camp. Featherpaw is heading to sleep.

Still, the pale warrior knows that it's empty now. Since Shybee's gained his name, he no longer sleeps in there, opting to properly rest with the rest of the warriors as he should. Nutfur finds no qualms in the spotted tabby's reasoning, but he just knows that Featherpaw's the only apprentice now and he's been all alone in the den. At least as a medicine cat apprentice he had the space to share with Clearwater. But Featherpaw has since been demoted from that position.

Perhaps he's lonely.

Nutfur knows he'd be lonely without Brownpelt to sleep with. He lets Brownpelt rest in his own nest but they've agreed as of late to keep their bundles of moss closer together. Neither one can let go of each other.

"Uh wait, Featherpaw," Nutfur finds himself calling out. Featherpaw halts in his tracks and swivels his head around to meet the warrior's glowing green gaze. "I was wondering… well, I uh… I know that you're the only one in the apprentice's den. And I was just uh, just wondering if uh… ah, uh… wondering if you wanted to…" he pauses, biting his tongue. Is this a good idea? "Wanted to share a nest with me tonight? You'd be less lonely."

Something flickers in Featherpaw's blue pools. A shimmer of a shiny stone trapped beneath the waves. But he shakes his head, closing his eyes with the motion. "Thank you for your offer, but I think I might prefer being in solidarity tonight. We have spent the day together. I do need some space after all." And the midnight 'paw shuffles ahead, slipping past the reeds that lead to the apprentice's den before Nutfur can form a response.

"Ah, ok, I'll see you in the...morning..." he trails off, speaking aloud to no one midst the quiet rustle of the grasses.

A soft numbness shifts around in his head. The ground at his paws drifts in and out of focus. Tired, yet not prepared to sleep. Nutfur blinks slowly, forcing the fuzzy dirt to solidify in his vision. He allows his feet to lead him somewhere - anywhere but the den. He pads off in the opposite direction of the guards, wandering over pebbles and moss and dirt. Rushes twitch and bend with the wind. Wind that pushes Nutfur's hairs the wrong way as it nudges against his back.

The pale tom makes little bounds, slipping around the rear of the medicine cat's den. The collection of stones hides a patch of shady undergrowth and beyond that, a clear patch of wispy grass. He ducks his head through the limp dangling plants, slinking around the slivers of moonlight. With a few more strides, the thicker brush parts and reveals the tiny circle of grass, some rocks and moss.

Nutfur bathes in the rhythm of the night. The whispers of the wind. The chirp of crickets. The crunch of grass.

Hmm.

Nutfur closes his eyes, angling his ears back to pinpoint the shuffle behind him.

 _Short legs, quick breaths, limited tracking abilities._

He exhales slowly, casting an waft of warm breath into the air ahead of him. "Tansyspot. Turn back."

"Aw, come on, Nutfur!" a voice complains - young, feminine and petulant. "You never even looked behind you!"

An amused smile graces the older warrior's maw as he turns his head around to glance over his shoulder. There stands the calico with her ruffled fur and her twitching mismatched eyes. Nutfur hums at the familiarity.

"And yet you still haven't learned."

Tansyspot, ignoring the comment, struts forward with a sniff, halting beside the pale brown tom standing in the grass. "So what are you doing out here?" she prompts casually, staring out into the distance where the light meets the dark.

"Can't sleep," Nutfur admits, gaze never faltering from the horizon.

 _I'm lonely._

"Why are you out here? Don't tell me you were practicing your tracking because as usual, it still stinks." Nutfur meows in mirth, a wrinkle to his berry hued nose.

"Pff, no," the calico says pointedly, sticking her own nose up arrogantly. "I took a long nap today. I don't feel like sleeping now."

Nutfur hums. "Guess you're out here keeping me company then, eh?"

"Guess so," Tansyspot beams with her white chest fur puffed out and she plops down to sit. Her mismatched eyes twinkle like tiny colored stars. "Come on then," she nudges him at his side with her paw. "Sit down before you cramp out your legs."

Snorting, Nutfur obliges, leaning back on his haunches until he's sitting down beside Tansyspot.

"How's training Featherpaw going?" Tansyspot asks.

Nutfur tilts his head up skyward to ponder, kneading the grass with his claws and scoring little lines in the dirt. "It's going well. I think he's starting to push himself too hard though. Isolating himself again."

"Is he a better apprentice than I was?" Tansyspot raises a brow at him.

Nutfur stiffens, a twinge running down his spine. "Tansyspot, that's a loaded question. Duskbelly trained you just fine. You were a good apprentice and you turned into a good warrior."

"But is he better than me?" the calico presses and leaning closer to the older warrior's personal space. Her voice drops to a quieter, more hushed tone. "Duskbelly didn't care to tell. You told me I was amazing and that you were proud of me."

"Y-you were amazing," Nutfur's voice catches as he speaks, mildly caught off guard as the molly continues leaning in. "I am proud of you."

"Say it," Tansyspot whispers, breath hot as she exhales.

"Say what?"

"That you're proud of me."

The broad pale warrior shrinks his head back and swallows down the unease. "I'm proud of you, Tansyspot."

An odd smile passes Tansyspot's visage and she briefly rubs her head against Nutfur's shoulder. He twitches, a shiver darting through his veins. "Tansyspot, what are -"

"Shh. You're too stressed out lately. You need to relax." She keeps her head pressed to his shoulder, rubbing back and forth at a languid, soothing pace.

"I-I'm perfectly relaxed," Nutfur quivers, unnerved by the female's behavior. "Tansyspot I don't think you should be doing this. Brownpelt will be -"

"Brownpelt will be fine," the calico lilts casually, smiling coyly. She moves until her body fully presses up against Nutfur's side and ducks her head under his chin with a smug air. She's confident with her choices. She knows what she's doing. She's done it before. "What Brownpelt doesn't know won't hurt him." Her tail flicks. "You're stressed out and need to relax. I can help you relax."

Nutfur shakes his head. "No, I can't. It it's… wrong…"

"There's nothing wrong with natural urges," Tansyspot insists. She places a paw atop Nutfur's. "Just let it happen."

"You're with Brownpelt," Nutfur drops his voice to a strained hiss, ignoring the pleasured tingles running like sparks all across his pelt. "This would ruin him. This would betray him."

"Then it stays our little secret," Tansyspot lilts, sickeningly sweet as malicious intent swirls in her eyes. Her tone is melodic, calming - like a lullaby. "Give in. You know you want to. You _need_ to. _Give in."_

Nutfur makes a garbling sound in his slightly parted maw, eyes clenching shut. "I… I…" he can't speak much more, quivering down to his very core. Heat pulses in his lower abdomen before he bites his tongue in an act of defiance. "I…" is his final legitimate word before his speech is reduced to animalistic wailing.

It's wrong.

It's foul.

Nutfur is unable to fight back.

He succumbs to the lullaby.

* * *

 _Gasp._

"How dare you."

Nutfur's ear twitches. The words slowly register and he forces his eyes - his heavy, sleepy eyes - to open to properly acknowledge the voice that speaks with muffled disdain. Scratch that. Raw, pure hatred.

"Huh?" The warrior lifts his head, eyes half-lidded while the figures above him cloud into focus.

"How. Dare. You." The voice repeats. It's low and gravely.

The smaller, darker shape focuses into a bristling Featherpaw.

The larger, browner shape focuses into a scandalized Brownpelt.

Nutfur startles into an alarm, suddenly all too aware of his position and the actions prior leading up to it.

Tansyspot.

Soft words.

Soft touches.

Malicious words.

Malicious touches.

The lust.

The lullaby.

All of which leads up to the pale tom laying on his side in the grass, his legs entangled with those of his nighttime partner.

 _Oh no._

"It's not what it looks like!" he blurts in defense, ignorant to the calico with him rousing from the depths of slumber.

"It never is," Featherpaw growls in a dark, somber tone. Lightning crackles in his eyes, a furious storm brewing with intent to fear.

"Featherpaw -"

"Save it," the black tom snaps, spitting acid. "I refuse to train today." He turns on a heel and charges off back the way he came. Along the grass, through the undergrowth, and around the stones.

Brownpelt remains.

"I… I…" the chestnut tom stammers as his eyes swell up with mortified tears. "I can't… I can't believe you…"

"Brownpelt, it's not what it looks like!" Nutfur insists, jolting to his paws and rising to the defense. "I didn't - I would _never_ -"

There's a shudder and droplets escape and start streaming down the cheeks of the younger. "I always trusted you. You're my big brother. I always trusted you to look after me. I thought you were happy with me and Tansyspot being together. And then you take her for yourself?" A note of anger accents his tone, furious tears bubbling.

"Oh Brownpelt, don't make Nutfur take the blame," Tansyspot finally speaks and when she does, it's intentional and honey-sweet.

"What?" Brownpelt turns his teary eyes upon his supposed _mate._

Tansyspot flicks her tail, gesturing to the chestnut warrior with an outstretched paw. "It's really your fault, darling. I was just heeding to your suggestion."

"My…"

"Suggestion," she finishes, smiling prettily. "You said you wanted an open relationship. So I figured you wouldn't mind if I branched out with Nutfur. I mean, he's got some of your genes and he's handsome enough. He'd make a wonderful partner to invite into our relationship."

"I…" Brownpelt chokes up. "I don't… not like this… We were supposed to talk about it first. We were supposed to negotiate. I didn't want… just randomly picking partners…"

"Oh but sweetheart, Nutfur isn't random. I picked him specifically. So again, it's still your fault. You weren't clear enough with your instructions."

Left without anymore words to say, the dam breaks and the true sobbing begins. Brownpelt takes a cold, decisive step backwards before whipping around and bolting for the confines of the undergrowth. The wind howls with his swift movements, settling to a calm morning breeze once the chestnut tom disappears from view.

A cold note stings Nutfur's heart.

"Brownpelt… I didn't mean…"

Everything has been ruined.

* * *

 _A/N: Umm... oops?_

 _Sorry not sorry honestly though haha. We're picking up right off with some harsh stuff. One step forward yields five steps backward in this tale._

 _QotC: Surprisingly enough, there's more to this au than the romance side of things. As of any good Snark story, we've got an underlying plot. It hasn't quite reared its head yet, as this is still mostly dramatic exposition, but it'll be there. So my question to you is, what exactly is that underlying plot? What do you think will happen by the end of this?_

 _\- snarky_


End file.
